


Like Real People Do

by mythbusterposey



Series: Oblivion [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone's looking for these two stupid Jedi, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Star-crossed, The Millennium Falcon is Sentient, honestly it's mostly Rey and Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythbusterposey/pseuds/mythbusterposey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{Act II}</p><p>You can't be on the run without someone looking for you. Unfortunately the further Rey and Kylo Ren get from one another, the closer their pursuers get to them both. Maybe they'll go further if they learn to go together.</p><p>Shameless Angst on a theme of medium-burn Reylo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i will not ask you where you came from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Falcon, Rey, and Kylo Ren have abandonment issues.
> 
> Or, You Thought You Could Leave Without Saying Goodbye.
> 
> Chapter titles from Like Real People Do by Hozier

 

> _In engineering, a **truss** is a structure that "consists of two-force members only, where the members are organized so that the assemblage as a whole behaves as a single object"._

 

_***_

 

The _Millennium Falcon_ has endured many things over the years. She’s a tired old thing, but still sprints across the galaxy as if she was fresh off the Corellian shipyards. At nearly a century old, it takes only the most skilled and most dedicated of captains to keep her in the air. She’s lost a few pieces, and added a few. At the beginning there was only innocent intentions, a freighter meant to be sold to a med supply company on Coruscant. However, due to some mysterious event on the flightline on Corellia, she was docked for several years. It’s also supposed that the old ship has a frightening deathwish, for all of her pilots have an intrepid streak. When she was released to do her duty, it didn’t take long to figure out that this ship was destined to be the fastest in the galaxy.

Countless races around planets and star systems notched wins into her weathered bulkheads. She served with many groups during the Clone Wars before she’d fallen into Han Solo’s hands. Her dual sublight engines were more than taken care of for nearly a decade. And she never let Han down when he was at the helm. After the Battle of the Death Star, everyone knew her name. She had saved Luke Skywalker, and practically the entire galaxy as a result.

Now, she was in the hands of a small, lonely girl from Jakku. The _Falcon_ had been present to her youth and adolescent years, and her subsequent escapes from three separate planets.

The point was, the _Falcon_ was unrecognizable, when compared against the ship that had rolled onto the flightline ninety-five years prior. But that didn’t change the fact that everything she’s ever had on board was precious cargo to her, and she’d get them where they belonged no matter what.

***

Rey and her companion had parted ways almost as soon as they’d reached the base of the mountain again. She went to her ship, and he to his. “Wait!” he calls to her, and she turns to him. He jogs up to her and takes his hair down from the band he’d given her, offering it up through the supports holding the gangplank down. She stands above him once more.

“Keep it. Never know when you’ll be somewhere this hot again.” she says softly.

His arm drops to his side. The second sun is just beginning to descend, bright stars peeking out through the atmosphere at them. “Thank you.” he says. “Before I forget…” he snaps the band around his wrist. “Don’t go anywhere.” he turns and dashes into his ship, leaving her hunched over awkwardly on the gangplank. She sighs and descends it again. He returns with a brown bundle in his arms. “I uh, _acquired_ this back in Arkanis Sector.” he thrusts the smuggled goods at her. It’s unbelievably soft, and warm from his body heat. She holds onto it.

“What is it?” she asks, unraveling it slightly, revealing it to be a blanket.

“I know you’ll probably want to keep the thermal trackers off, wherever you go, so I figure you could use this instead of freezing to death.” he shrugs, like it’s nothing.

She meets his eyes. “Thank you.” she says, a confused half-frown on her face. She wants to ask why he’d give a flying leap about her freezing to death, but a press against his mind only confirms that she doesn’t want to know. She buries her face in the bundle of fabric and peeks up at him. “It’ll do.” she mumbles.

The corner of his lips twinge upwards a little bit, and she would have written it off as a tick if she didn’t so clearly see the affection in his eyes. He gives a nod. “Um,” he look around, heaving a great sigh. He knows they should part ways. He’s been here for far too long. This beacon of Force energy would certainly get someone’s attention, somewhere in the universe. “Keep in touch. I always have my holocom on me.” he says tersely. “Just shoot me a beep whenever you land safely.” he nods. She’s stunned at his stuttering goodbye.

“Or you can beep me when you do.” she offers. She wishes for a moment that she had some gift to give him in return for the blanket.

“And don’t worry about credits.” he says. “It’ll probably go against your principles but I know you’re powerful with Jedi persuasion. Not all parts dealers are as stubborn-minded as you’d think.” She decides to accept it as a compliment.

He’s watching her mouth as they fall into silence again, the setting sun bringing out some incredible warm color in his deep, dark eyes. She can see her silhouette in his eyes. She sucks in a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I’m going to leave, now.” she whispers, making herself shoot a hand out towards him.

He looks at it oddly before shaking his head. “We shake hands like this.” he whispers, and he brings his hand up to her eye level. She’s wrought with fright for a moment, remembering the incomprehensible pain he’d brought from wrenching through her mind, months ago, but he steadies his resolve and swipes his fingers across the surface of her thoughts, a definite presence that leaves her breathless in its intimacy. Her shaking right hand comes up to mimic his motion. She reaches out with the Force and gently brushes her hand through the air. While his control with the Force was fine-motored, hers was a little less gentle, like a soft punch to his thoughts. He jolts a little and laughs again. “Quite a handshake you’ve got there. We’ll work on that.”

She doesn’t tell him how much she looks forward to that.

***

“I’m heading to the Mid Rim.” she says over the holocom link several hours later, feet kicked up on the center console in the command center, cruising at sublightspeed.

“Avoid the city planets. Your ship is too recognizable there, too many Republic sympathizers.” his garbled voice comes back. He was gifted with splicing code, but the quality after encryption left something to be desired. She sighs.

“Maybe I should ditch the _Falcon_ like you did with your ship.” she says.

“NO.” comes the terse reply, just as every alarm in the cockpit starts going off and she’s _hurled_ out of hyperspace.

She has no time to think of all the things he’s shouting at her, demanding to know what’s going on. She watches the batteries drain on the shields, the trackers coming back online and broadcasting out to every known receiver in the galaxy, blaring their position. The overhead lights flicker and sputter out, plunging the cockpit, and the rest of the compartments, into blackness. She clutches at the steering mechanisms and gets no feedback. The possibilities are rolling through her mind. The motivator. No, that was repaired.. It has to be avionics. How? They were just at sublights! Hardwiring electrical malfunction? Her eyes flick up to the place the electrical compressor controls used to be. No, she’d fixed those.

_Rey, you need to stop screaming and tell me what is going on._

The press into her mind is so firm and steady, and she grabs onto it like a buoy in a stormy sea.

“I’m out of hyperspace, the tracker controls are overridden, my signal is broadcasting everywhere in the _universe_ , the lights are all out it’s so dark it’s so dark--”

_I have your signal, sit on the floor and find the breathing apparatus, it’s just outside the cockpit door._

She nods, feeling sick. She’s never known dark like this before, even in her sleep. Never known loneliness and terror like this, in all her life of being alone. She’s shaking and blubbering in fear. She’s going to be found by someone, and it’s not going to be pretty when she is.

***

“General Organa.” a comms officer appears behind her, a readout in her hands. The weathered woman she’d approached turns to her from her strategy meeting. Her voice is terse as she continues, relaying her message in her ear. “The _Millennium Falcon_ has just sent out a location broadcast.” she mumbles.

Leia’s heart jumps into her throat as she stands, the Force pulsing with hope inside of her. “We will continue this later.” she says. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”

They rush out of the room and down the hall to the watch floor. The young lieutenant takes the base leader to her station, pulling up the readout she’s gotten.

It wasn’t just one signal flash; they were much too far away to pick up something such as that. The screen was filled with about three hundred entries of a precise location in space, far from any easily-recognizable star system. “The ship is almost at the border to the Mid Rim.”

“Was there anything else with the broadcast?”

“It’s an info dump.” the lieutenant explains. “Data about everything, from the number of lights on to how much fuel is in the tank.” she waves her arm around.

“Is it still broadcasting?” Leia asks, calling Admiral Statura over to her side.

“No, it cut out after fifteen seconds.” she replies. “The only reason we got it was because it was an outgoing broadcast.”

“A distress call?” the Admiral asks.

“There was no message accompanied with. It may have been a shipboard malfunction.” Leia can only imagine how scared Rey must be, if she was even on the ship. “A safety measure, maybe.”

“Admiral, how soon can you get a ship to this location?”

“Commander Dameron is the squad leader currently on-call.”

***

“General Hux.” a timid signals officer approaches the severe-looking man on the bridge of the _Finalizer_. He’d been staring out into the starscape, scowling vaguely, hoping Kylo Ren would feel his rage through the lightyears between them.

“Lieutenant Ganje.” he acknowledges.

“Our computer picked up a location broadcast you may be interested in.”

***

A relatively short distance from the _Millennium Falcon,_ a fake smuggler reaches out with the Force to project calm and focus, urging his ship to move faster and faster across the distance. His teeth were grit together. Less than a cycle from her and things have already gone straight to a sarlacc’s stomach. He feels rage building up in him again. “Rey!” he shouts into his holocom after a few seconds without hearing her.

Another scream pierces the vintage sound output on his holocom. Something hisses and slams. He tries to conceal his sharp worry from their bond, but this is a failure, judging by her increase in terror. Her hyperventilating is just making things worse.

His ship finally beeps out the alarm that they’re closing in on their desired location. He pulls his ship out of sublights at the exact right moment. He makes the docking procedure a lot easier with this antiquated cruiser than he did with the First Order transport. When the airlock depressurizes, he sprints through to the cockpit, banging on the door. “REY!” he shouts. “OPEN THE DOOR!” he doesn’t know where the frantic edge in his voice comes from. There’s no response from the other side, so he uses the Force to wrench the door upwards into the sheathing area in the overhead. He had barely registered the pitch blackness on board. At least it wasn’t freezing. He feels her fear pulsing through the Force, and it’s heady and dizzying at this proximity. Without a second thought, he picks her up, carrying her back the way he came. The light shines upon her tear-stained face. “Rey.” he says, setting her down in one of the racks on one wall.

Her eyes are distant, shell-shocked. He’s seen this expression on people he’s killed. She was a small knot of fear in his arms. He doesn’t want to let her go in this moment, or any moment. He strokes her hair down with one hand, wiping her tears away with the other. He senses impending trouble in the back of his mind. He repeats her name over and over until she regains her senses somewhat. There’s an alert on his console he has to see.

They’re gonna have company, and a lot of it.


	2. in some sad way i already know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're finally on the run, and making more headway than they did apart.
> 
> Or, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Repeat.
> 
> Chapter titles from Like Real People Do by Hozier

Kylo Ren has minutes, just minutes, before they’re going to arrive. His panic sets in once again, as he hurries about the cabin, using the Force to gather things that hold sentimental value to her, or necessity to him. This includes the satchel full of sabers and saber crystals, her blue lightsaber, a bundle of clothes, the brown blanket, and a few hard-copy nav maps. He uses the Force to move these all into his own ship, his hands shaking with anxiousness. Sweat forms on his brow as he initiates the detaching sequence. “What are you doing?!” she exclaims from the rack, struggling to get free.

 

“We’re gonna be getting a lot of incoming! I need you at copilot!” She’s in the chair as he says it, taking in the console before her. “We’re making a jump to sublights, depress contrail exhaust.”

 

“You’ll flood the engine!” she protests.

 

“It’s just until we get a few lightyears away, so they don't track us!” he says, flicking on controls, turning dials. He bursts out of the chair to go check a configuration on a wall a meter away.

 

“What about the  _ Falcon _ ?” she asks worriedly, heart sinking. Her ship…

 

“I can put you back onboard, if you like, and leave you to the...twenty-four ships about to breach our locality.” he checks his readouts. They have a minute to make the jump. There’s no protest from Rey.

 

“Hyperdrive is still warm from your incoming trip, shouldn’t be hard to reverse course.”

 

“Engaging thrusters due 34 degrees Zyph-North-West.”

 

“I thought you said to  _ avoid _ Coruscant!”

 

“It’ll be the last place they suspect.” he mutters. “We can hide in plain sight with this cruiser, with the  _ Falcon _ we might as well have a sign saying ‘here’s the two fugitives you’ve been looking for! Come get us!’” he waves a hand in the air to emphasize. Rey is annoyed to find that he’s right, once more. She presses a few more pre-jump buttons.

 

“Ready for jump to sublights.” she says, barely suppressing a sigh.

 

“Sublights, aye.” He takes the helm and engages.

 

***

 

It’s a dogfight as soon as they exit the jump. “Scramble!” Poe Dameron calls into the headset. “Snap, find weaknesses in the Orbiter!” His eyes flit across the starscape. TIE fighters, the First Order’s finest, whine past his wingtips. BB-8 gives him stats about them he couldn’t be bothered to look for. “There’s just 18 of em, squad, highest kill gets the rathtar bank!” he gives an adventurous grin as he destroys three in his path.

 

“No fair, Poe!” Pava protests in his ear.

 

“Why isn’t the  _ Falcon _ in on the fight?” Zed asks in his ear. “I’ve been trying to hail them, but there’s nobody aboard.”

 

“The General said there might be system malfunctions, maybe they can’t fight back.” Poe replies, smirking faintly as he takes down another TIE fighter, snatched right from under Pava’s blaster beams. He suppresses a laugh as she groans in his ear again.

 

“Orbiter weaknesses painted, Black Leader.”

 

“Roger that, Snap, let’s light em up!” he gives the order. “Pava, Zed, cover us!”

 

“You got it, Poe!” he gears into action, the readouts from Snap’s quick observation run pulling up in his target radar. Poe, Snap, and their newest X-Wing pilot take down the mid-sized Orbiter-class First Order carrier. With calculated shots, they take out the defense shields. The First Order goes back to their original coordinates with their tails between their legs.

 

“Final count, Black 5?”

 

“One.”

 

“Black 4?”

 

“Seven.” says Pava, miffed.

 

“Black 3?”

 

“Zero, Black Leader.”

 

“I’ll give you two, for doing most of the damage on the Orbiter. Black 2?”

 

“One.” Snap huffs.

 

“And Black Leader with ten.” Poe chuckles. “The rathtar bank is mine another day.”

 

“You gotta stay outta the runnings at least once, Poe.”

 

“Yeah, _so_ not fair.”

 

“Okay, okay, quit your whining. Zed, have we made contact with the  _ Millennium Falcon _ ?” Poe turns his eyes to the massive ship, floating alone and quiet in space.

 

“Negative, Poe.” Zed sighs. “You’re patched through to the com, though.”

 

“Rey, it’s Poe, can you hear me?” he tries. He can practically feel the rest of his squad holding their collective breath. “Rey, come in.” He switches to a private com for Snap. “Snap, can you pick up any life forms on board?”

 

“Negative.”

 

The hair on the back of Poe Dameron’s neck stands up on end. He tunes back into the public com. He knows General Organa is listening in as well. “ _ Millennium Falcon, _ this is Commander Poe Dameron of the Resistance fleet.” he ignores his shaking hands. “Please respond.” fear claws up his throat. He cuts all coms outbound and shouts and swears. This was supposed to be a rescue mission and they don’t even know if anybody is on board. He holds his helmet in his hands and tries to steady his breathing. He flicks the com back on. “Attach tow cables and prepare for drag through sublights.” he manages to mutter.

 

“Aye-aye, Black Leader.” his squad replies with heavy hearts.

 

***

 

Supreme Leader Snoke will be absolutely furious when he hears of their quick defeat. They have the fastest fleet in the whole galaxy, and they were beaten to the freighter embarrassingly fast. General Hux maintains his stoic expression as he stalks through the halls, barking orders at the staff on watch.

 

“Attention on deck!” the Junior Officer of the Deck calls as he storms in. Those not manning critical navigational positions hop to attention quickly; his bad mood had evry obviously preceded him to the bridge. He can faintly smell fresh shoe polish.

 

“Carry on.” he sighs, and the JOOD rings a stinger. The bell recording is curt and proper. He stands with his hands behind his back at the frontmost point of the observation window. The transparasteel is so clear it’s like there’s nothing at all between him and the void of space.

 

He wonders reluctantly how he’s going to make up for the ground they’ve lost in losing possession of the freighter. The surveillance that the team he’d sent out pointed to there being no life forms aboard. First Order intelligence indicated that the ship was in the possession of the Wookie Chewbacca and the scavenger girl from Jakku. The ship’s seemingly abandoned presence in dead space probably meant that the girl had taken it and ditched it somewhere, just like the Imperial shuttle Kylo Ren had commandeered for himself months ago.

 

The thought of the defector made General Hux’ lip curl up in a sneer. How dare that traitor think he could get away with turning his back on the First Order? He will soon know the true power of who he had betrayed.

 

***

 

“So we are going to Coruscant?” Rey finally asks, once they’d plotted a hyperspace course taking them the long way round.

 

“Yes.” her companion huffs. “We’re going to Coruscant.”

 

“Will we hide there for the rest of our lives?” she asks. He’s reminded of how melodramatic he used to be (it used to be worse, unbelievably) around his parents when he was younger.

 

“We have to formulate a plan to get you back safely to the Resistance.” he says absently.

 

“I don’t want to go back to the Resistance. The same as you don’t want to go back to the First Order.”

 

“I think you’re underestimating my situation just a little bit.” he deadpans.

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Because regardless of where I go, whether it’s to the First Order or the Resistance or Luke Skywalker or Hutt Space, I’m going to die. I’ve done too many things to be redeemed.”

 

“Why not Hutt Space? You could be a bounty hunter!”

 

“You obviously don’t know Han Solo and Leia Organa’s relationship with the Hutts.” he rolls his eyes.

 

“Enlighten me, then. We have a few more hours of sublights.” He can feel her pressing into his mind, attempting to persuade him to tell her. He pushes her out easily enough, but humors her.

 

He tells the story of how Han had swindled the Hutts one too many times, and how he was using reward money from rescuing Leia from Darth Vader to pay off Jabba the Hutt. But it turned out for Han that he would rather stay with the Alderaani princess than pay off his debts. When Darth Vader lured them into a trap, Han Solo repaid his debt by being frozen in carbonite, and being hand-delivered to Jabba by the Mandalorian bounty hunter Boba Fett, son of the legendary Jango Fett, the original copy for the clone troopers that would eventually fight in the Clone Wars. The princess had devised a way to save Han from this terrible fate, and she melted him from the carbonite, but was subsequently captured as well, and made Jabba’s slave. When Luke Skywalker came to Jabba’s palace, he was captured like the other two had been. Just before they were about to be executed, he stages an elaborate escape, ending with Princess Leia strangling Jabba the Hutt to death with the very chain he’d bound her with.

 

Rey’s eyes were huge the entire time he was talking, taking in every word as he spoke. He could tell her that milk wasn’t supposed to be blue and she’d believe him.

 

“Why would you use your real name, though?” she asks. “Why wouldn’t you just wear a--”

 

“Wear a mask? I think I’ve sung that song before.” he says with a mirthless smirk.

 

“It was just a suggestion. Besides, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think more than ten people know your face out there.”

 

He pauses and frowns. She has a point, but… “I don’t want to be a bounty hunter. As pleased as I would be with the projected lifespan, I don’t dwell in short-lived thrills.” he says.

 

“Your impulsiveness seems to say otherwise.” she mutters and gets out of the copilot’s chair. She needed a little bit of space from him.

 

She likes this ship. It’s loads less...haughty than the other one he’d had. She starts to pick up the mess of her things he’d thrown about with the Force. She attaches her lightsaber to her belt and gently maneuvers the other sabers back into the satchel. The crystals she’d collected are in a small leather pouch, soft but sturdy. Her clothes get shoved onto the rack he’d originally set her down on, as do her other meager belongings. Her heart still aches to be so far from the  _ Falcon _ , but knows it’s for the best that they fled.

 

“Walk me through what was happening on the ship just before everything went belly-up.” he says when she returns to the copilot’s chair.

 

She sighs and relaxes into the seat. “Well.” she folds her hands together over her middle. She can feel her annoyance and anxiety on the rise, and hates not knowing why. “I’d performed all the necessary flight checks, adjusting for regular space after I’d broken the atmosphere of the planet. Everything was back how it was when I’d stolen her.” she says. “Honestly there was nothing going wrong until I said I was thinking of ditching her.”

 

The man folded into the captain’s seat frowns. There’s something on his mind. Her anxiety builds, and he doesn't seem to pay it any mind.

 

“They say…” his frown deepens, like he’s embarrassed to continue. “They say that there’s sometimes a ghost in the machine.” he meets her eyes. “And the  _ Millennium Falcon _ is a very, very old machine.” his voice is hushed, reverent. “Han Solo would always talk to the ship like it was a person, as if they were just as corporeal as he or anybody else aboard. C-3PO would also seem to convene with the ship, which, it’s easy enough to program a droid with basic manners and personality, but a ship?” he shakes his head. “I won’t lie to you; I’ve considered the possibility of the ship being semi-sentient at times. No regular person can fly a ship that quickly, maneuver so smoothly.”

 

“Are you saying...I hurt the  _ Millennium Falcon _ ’s... _ feelings?”  _ she asks in disbelief. “Sublights is getting to you.” she laughs bitterly.

 

“What was your reasoning for it, then, if you’d performed every check, readjusted every component? There have been dozens of captains of that freighter, that made their own mods on it. Who’s to say that those mods weren’t just like a droid’s personality programming?” he says. She twists her face into an offended glare.

 

“Well it’s not like I can go back and beg forgiveness from a blasted  _ freighter _ .” she spits, drawing on some of his back-burner rage for a moment. He shudders from the exchange. “How many hours until we reach Coruscant?” she snaps

 

“Five and a half.” he replies with a quick glance at the numbers above the nav computer.

 

“Good. I’m going to get some sleep. I trust you can watch your tongue around the hyperdrive, it’s having a really bad day.” she says before stomping off. He hears her climb into the rack, feels her scowling at the back of his head and wondering if she could shoot blaster beams at his stupid hair.

 

He looks amusedly toward the console where she’d just sat, before pulling his hair back with the band on his wrist before quietly cleaning up the common area of the cruiser. He feels her fall into a light sleep, and urges it deeper with the Force. She deserves to rest after the hell she’s gone through in the past few days. He can’t help but wonder how much of that was caused by him.  _ Probably all of it, _ some part of him says from deep down, the spirited flicker of Light within his chest he can’t seem to shake, even after all he’s done. If he thinks back far enough it’d probably be true. He’s the cause of most of the wretchedness in the world. And there’s no way that the wisp of Light inside of him will ever be enough to fix what he’s done.

 

_ But for now _ , he thinks, a glimmer of unregistered hope in his mind.  _ For now I have her. _


	3. i will not ask and neither would you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fugitives begin to learn about one another.
> 
> Or, The Road To Coruscant Is Paved With Good Intentions.
> 
> Chapter titles from Like Real People Do by Hozier

Poe Dameron detaches his cable connecting to the  _ Millennium Falcon _ as soon as they enter the D’Qari atmosphere. He knows his squad can handle the payload to the flight deck, and he wants to be inside that freighter before the General is, just in case. There’s already a crowd forming on the flightline. Some handlers take control of his craft once he's touched down to the ground. He jogs across the tarmac to the  _ Millennium Falcon _ being set down. Once the great freighter is on solid ground again, he starts giving orders to back up, get a medic on standby. Someone hands him a blaster before he engages the gangplank to lower. He steels himself and walks in.

 

The whole ship seems to have lost power. It's dead. His heart is threatening to pound out of his chest. Silence engulfs him in a still embrace. His eyes scan the room as he walks round.

 

“Common area. Clear.” He mutters. He continues. “Engine room. Clear.” He shudders once, ghost of a chill in his bones. “Fresher. Clear. Berthing unit. Clear.” There has to be someone here, some sign. He sees warps in the bulkheads, like a cannon bolt had glanced the steel but hadn't actually made contact enough to mark it. “Checking cockpit. Stand by.” He holds his breath and engages the hatch.

 

There's nothing. He wishes he was back in his locked-broadcast X-wing, shouting and cursing. Where was Rey?

 

***

 

Hyperspace was very different in Kylo Ren’s ship. In the  _ Millennium Falcon _ , cruising at sublights meant having to keep an eye on the navigation, watching out for incoming debris and obstacles, keeping the hyperdrive appeased while it worked overtime, a hundred things at once. It was better suited for the modern multitasker than the casual captain. However, aboard the cruiser that couldn’t have been more than two decades old, Rey was delighted (and dismayed) to find she didn’t have to do more than engage the autonav and kick back. It certainly let her explore the various compartments for awhile.

 

The ship’s interior was done in the same gray-beige as the outside, accented with a deeper blue and gold paint. The racks were comfortable, if a bit cramped. She wonders how Kylo Ren sleeps, if he just folds himself into one of the little bunks like a bird in a tree. Maybe he sleeps on the floor. Does he sleep? She’s certainly never seen him with his guard down enough to bear witness to his sleeping habits. There’s a small ‘fresher, and she considers taking a quick sonic shower before they reach Coruscant. She’s still slightly grimy from the jungle planet’s humidity. She sits down in her rack and inspects the saber crystals she’d taken with her from said planet.

 

There were six in all, in the black leather pouch she’d carefully laid them in. Two blue, one green, a yellow-bronze, a bloodred, and one that she must have mistaken as a gem but upon closer inspection just looks like another rock. She floats it in the air before her face with the Force. It’s taking up quite a bit of her focus. It’s harder to use and wield the Force when they’re moving through hyperspace.

 

“So…” she clears her throat, getting the attention of the man in the captain’s seat. He gives her an acknowledging nod. “You made your own saber?”

 

“I did.” he turns to look at her now. “Are you wanting to make one yourself? What’s wrong with Skywalker’s?” his face is impossible to read.

 

“Maybe. I guess I’m not trained enough with it to appreciate it. I’d still rather use my staff than the saber at times.” she lets her annoyance show, hoping he would return the sentiment of showing facial expressions.

 

“Understandable.” he gets up and walks to her, sitting across from her. He waves his hand up and the gems float in front of his face. He looks curiously at the rock-like one. “That’s a rock.”

 

She sighs. “I  _ know _ it’s a rock.” she rolls her eyes.

 

“How did you mistake a  _ rock _ for a Force crystal?” there’s a laugh in his expression, and she’s relieved she can see it.

 

“Forget the rock.” she says, plucking it out of the air with her fingers. She tucks it back in the leather pouch. “What’s the first step?”

 

“Finishing saber training.” he responds.

 

“Master Luke told me he wasn’t flexible enough to train me for that yet.” she sighs. “That’s when he sent me away.”

 

“He sent you away because he….what?” he shakes his head in disbelief. She admires how expressive his face is. “Alright. I don’t think you’re nearly comfortable enough to train with me, but…”

 

“If you could…” they realize they were talking over themselves, and look at one another. Rey continues. “I could be comfortable with it, is what I’m saying.” She gives him a small little smile.

 

He nods, burdened with this now. He clears his throat. “We’d also have to search for the other building materials. They’re very rare materials, so unless we risk dismantling the ones we already have, we’ll have to be careful. It’s especially well-known on Coruscant what it takes to build a Jedi’s lightsaber. It’d be certain to raise questions.”

 

“And with two Force-sensitive fugitives somewhere around the Mid or Inner Rim, it’d be even more difficult.”

 

“The black market on Coruscant is pretty well-off. The First Order initially was going to attack the underworld of the capitol, but decided they’d rather destroy the Hosnian system.” he says, and it’s slightly horrifying to hear him speak of the massacre so nonchalantly. It must show on her face, for he quickly apologizes, a shadow cast over his features.

 

“We could see them exploding from Takodana.” she says softly. He winces. “It was...nothing I ever want to see again.” she shudders.

 

“Did you feel it?” he asks, his voice going as soft as hers. “When they... all the…” he is swallowing nervously. She looks confused, and he pales. He raises a shaking hand to push through his hair.

 

“What? What is it?” she asks, concerned.

 

He gives a short bark of laughter. “I’m glad you didn’t feel it, through the Force. You are quite sensitive in the Force, but I am so thankful you didn’t have to feel the slaughter of billions of lives in a single instant. I thought my head was going to explode, my arms rip off my body, it felt like I was being swallowed, swallowed alive.” he shakes his head, hands now holding a violent grip in his hair.

 

“You can...you could feel them die?” she asks, bewildered. How come she hadn’t felt it? He looks up at her, regret stark on his features. Pain fills his eyes, a thick black suffering filling up his lungs like tar. She reaches out to him and he pulls away just for a moment before she grabs hold of his wrists in her hands. She gasps and feels his strong emotions flood into her. It’s such a heady sensation to her, and probably always will be. Their connection doesn’t so much as hum as it does scream between them. She feels all those echoes, the loss as real to her as the blood in her veins. This is crazy, completely crazy.

 

“Rey...let go…” he strains, voice slurring. “Let go, I don’t want you to feel this…”

 

“Let me balance you out.” she says, gritting her teeth even as tears spill down her cheeks. He rests their foreheads together. She feels his helplessness bleed into her. “You were never involved in that.” she says in realization.

 

“Of course I was, don’t be foolish.” The angry waves of emotion and peace roil back and forth between them both until they still into a serene lake. They’re both breathing hard, not an eye is dry between them.

 

“You didn’t pull the trigger or give the order.”

 

“But I didn’t stop it.”

 

“You didn’t.” she admits sadly. As much as she wants to absolve him of his sins, she’s now felt the pain of hearing billions of voices crying out in unison and then being suddenly silenced in fire and heat. “But I feel your regret.” she says. It doesn’t sound like enough to anybody but them. To Kylo Ren, it is the beginnings of a pardon.

 

***

 

They enter Coruscant’s atmosphere with bated breath. The fear of all this going to hell at any moment looms dangerously over their heads. When they’re given the all-clear to enter airspace, They both breathe out in relief at the same time. “So this is Coruscant?” Rey asks, leaning closer to the front viewport.

 

Great skyscrapers ascend above the clouds, powerful and full of mystery. They gleam, angelic and surreal. She is in awe. She never thought she’d get the feeling of seeing something  _ new _ again.

 

Kylo Ren watches his companion’s quiet, awed appreciation of the city-planet. A surge of something akin to pride threatens to burst in his chest. “We’re landing.” he announces before plunging their ship downward, in one of the vertical speedways. She gasps and lets out a whoop of excitement, white knuckles gripping the very edge of her copilot console. He takes a sharp pull up and it knocks her back in her chair. She’s laughing. He’s smirking.

 

“Where did you learn to fly like that?” she asks. A sad look of realization crests on her features. “Nevermind.” He parks their ship in an abandoned lot. It blends in with everything else around them. “Nice choice.” she mutters. “So what’s the plan?” she asks.

 

“Staying on the ship is all well and good, but I’d prefer to be on solid ground for a few hours, myself.” he says, getting up. “We need to get new clothes for you, too.” he looks her up and down. “You’re too….Jedi.”

 

She scrunches up her face at that. “Too  _ Jedi _ ?” she protests.

 

“Remember what we talked about? People looking for us all over the galaxy, all that?” he says tiredly. He sighs. “I need a drink.” he mutters. “But first, the black market.”


	4. what did you bury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fugitives encounter the Coruscanti black market and walk away winners.
> 
> Or, You Can't Steal What's Given Freely.
> 
> Chapter titles from Like Real People Do by Hozier

The Coruscanti black market looks like nothing Rey has ever seen before. It is practically a smaller city, beneath the towering structures of the galactic elite. There’s an incredible amount of people there, flitting about the narrow streets for the best deal. The smell of grime, incredible food, and a good time hits Rey first. The Force is devious and gleeful here. She feels electric. Kylo Ren pulls his hood lower over his face, though no one here knows it. Rey is in a cloak as well, buttoned to her neck, concealing her Jedi robes and belts. The first thing they do is sit down to eat, somewhere dark where no one asks questions. To her surprise, her companion forks out a few credits to pay with.

 

“No use causing a scene this early in our trip.” he says as an explanation. “If word got out that two humans were going round the black markets doing Jedi mind tricks, the Republic would have us in custody quicker than you could imagine.” She just nods. He orders them both some food. It just keeps coming and coming to them, delicious dishes she’s never tried before. She devours almost as much as he does. Music blares from some speaker above them, making conversation nigh impossible. He also has a drink, some wicked-looking blue thing that makes him wince whenever he takes a drink. She asks for one of the same next time the waitstaff makes its rounds, and when she tries it herself, he’s watching her.

 

It tastes pretty awful, like if you could drink a punch to the back of the head. The look of amusement in Kylo Ren’s eyes glimmers in the dim light. Not one to be outdone, she finishes her drink before he does. “Was that your first drink?” he asks her.

 

“No, just my first one of  _ those _ .” she points. “What was it called?”

 

“A Drunken Jedi.” he says with a smirk. “It’s been around so long, it has a mythical reputation of being so strong, it could make a Jedi Master lose grip of the Force. Of course, back then, Jedi were forbidden from drinking, so I’m sure just being down here would distract from their  _ delicate _ sensibilities.”

 

She lets out a peal of laughter, turning heads but definitely squashing suspicions that the morose couple in the corner could be the two Jedi fugitives. Kylo Ren scans the room, and is pleased that the tension is dissipating between the two of them.

 

After they’re both nearly bursting at the seams, he suggests they go into the market for supplies. Rey nods and flips the hood up over her head again before they head out. They walk around for about an hour, finding smaller shops to look into. He doesn’t find many parts shops but they manage to uncover a few things, thanks to Rey’s keen scavenger’s eye. She only frowns a little when he waves his hand and says, “We already paid.”

 

The clothes shops are tricky, though. Rey insists she can work with just some bolts of fabric, but he says no one in Coruscant will believe they’re not Jedi if they dress utilitarian. “So we have to deal with fashion, now. Excellent.” she huffs.

 

Kylo Ren knows a little bit about current trends from First Order events in some systems, and though he never quite mingled as General Hux did, he would look on from the background, unobtrusive and awkward. He manages to pick a few staple pieces out for the both of them. He couldn’t walk around dressed like a smuggler, and she couldn’t look anything like she does now. And until he teaches her to be stronger with her mind-tricks, they’ll have to rely on old-fashioned disguises.

 

When he expresses to Rey that they can’t afford the clothes they need, she sighs and lets him wave his hand and say, “It’s a gift.”

 

“It’s a gift!” the shop owner insists. They leave the store quickly after that, burdened with their ‘purchases’.

 

“What about the saber parts?” she insists.

 

“We’ll have to deal with...that at a later date.” he says. “We’re gonna stay on the ship for a few days with our ear to the ground, in case something goes wrong and we’ve been spotted by an informant. I felt no such disturbance, but it’s not wise to take any chances.”

 

She nods and returns to the cruiser with him. They unpack. She wonders how old he is. He speaks like a man out of time, like he’d never been a child and hadn’t joked around with friends or his family.  _ You never joked around with friends and family, either, _ her mind unhelpfully supplies.  _ Look how you turned out. _ She looks over at him again, and if he’s sensing her thoughts, he doesn’t show it.

 

***

 

Chewbacca had been eager to get his ship back. He’d told Leia that the repairs he’d been making weren’t going to last very long if left unfinished, and all of the tools to do so were back on D’Qar. Leia had known Rey would have been in danger soon, but after five weeks of nothing, she was starting to convince herself that she was gone for good.

 

Leia Organa was used to people leaving her. By way of death or betrayal or self-imposed exile or “why won’t you get our son back, Leia?” or any number of other ways, she was seemingly destined to be alone.  _ To be a Skywalker is to suffer greatly, and to be alone, _ Luke had mused to her one day, just before he’d taken Ben off-world. She hadn’t liked the fact that he was right. It had just worried her greatly about her son.

 

Han had been in her arms for just a moment before he’d gone, and she’d lost him for good. The ache in her chest does not subside, but it waxes and wanes day to day. She distracts herself from the pain daily, never fully grieving one thing or another in her whole life. It’s not a healthy way to live, but this is not a healthy galaxy to live in.

 

Her current distraction is Rey, and trying to find her and bring her back to the Resistance. Her intelligence officers are at a loss, not used to following around the whims of a teenage girl who’s faced too much in her short years. Leia had let them know about their fateful meeting before Rey had taken off with the  _ Millennium Falcon _ . It’s entirely possible that she could not handle the stress of being in the Resistance, being a Jedi, being away from the only life she knew, on Jakku. That would explain the empty freighter they’d picked up in the Mid Rim. But the signal broadcast was strange. Her kind nature could have possibly been the cause of that, letting the Resistance know where their famed war machine was while Rey disappeared into stardust.

 

As Leia pours herself a glass of Corellian whiskey (a gag gift on her wedding day) she can only pray that the Force protects Rey, and guides her to do the right thing.

 

***

 

“Just come out and let me see you.” Kylo Ren huffs, lounging back in the pilot’s chair, spinning himself idly with his feet.

 

“No! I look ridiculous!” comes the indignant response from the back of the ship. Rey is cramped in the ‘fresher, trying to get on the clothes they’d brought back from the black market.

 

“Were you looking at the people down there? Everybody looks ridiculous.” he tries to sound comforting.

 

“Yeah, well I’m gonna be the most ridiculous out of the lot.” she snarks back at him. He rolls his eyes.

 

“Just let me see you. If you do look as ridiculous as you say, we’ll take them back.”

 

There’s silence from the other side of the door, sparking a bit of worry from the man. “Okay, I’ll come out. Just...don’t laugh.” He watches the door open slowly, and her head peeks out. “Don’t!”

 

“I’m not laughing!” he expresses with a tinge of annoyance. She ventures further.

 

Her hair is back in a half-bun, to get it away from the large hood. She’s in all black, for the first time in her life. He stands like he’s in the presence of authority. Her legs are covered in a tight matte fabric with gathered leather pockets on the calves, looking like a serrated edge. Her jacket wraps around her twice, but reveals a small triangle of her toned, flat stomach. The long sleeves of the jacket end in gloves, where her fingers peek out, small and nimble. The coattails go from low to high, the ends at the front at the level of her knees, and the back resting at the tops of her thighs. Along her spine is an intricate leather design, meant to look similar to laces, ending in a point at the small of her back. The clothes seem to swallow her up, but when he’s fixed with a glare, her persona becomes terrifying to the casual onlooker.

 

“What?” he says, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

 

“You’re  _ staring _ .” she says.

 

“I’ve never seen you in black before.”

 

“Is it that big of a deal?” she asks, looking down at herself and spinning, like he’s seen something she hasn’t. He watches her amusement take over, as she flips the hood up over her face, concealing her face above her nose. It’s amazing. She grins at him. “I don’t think the shoes are going to work though. They’re too hard.”

 

He’d picked out some edgy-looking shoes for her to wear, but was (rightly) worried about her lack of experience walking in them. “It’s of no consequence. No one will be looking at your shoes.” he says, damning the admiring note in his voice.

 

“So my boots will do?”

 

“The boots will do.” he nods.

 

“It’s no fair that you’re still in your clothes. Go put on the things you got!” she says, probing into his mind a little, trying to persuade him to do it. He bats away her attempts once more.

 

“Nice try.” he’s getting up out of his chair anyway, walking to the bag they’d put their ‘purchases’ in. He tugs out some pieces for himself and faces her as he strips off the smuggler’s coat and shirt, leaving his chest bare. He delights in the flush of her cheeks. He kicks off his boots and undoes his trousers.

 

At that she whirls around and covers her eyes. “What in the  _ stars _ are you--”

 

“What you asked.” he answers in a measured tone. She huffs and gives a shuddering sigh. He pulls the pants he’d gotten over his long legs, keeping his mind off of her arousal he feels through their connection. “I have pants on.” he notifies her, as he tugs on his shirt over his shoulders.

 

He’s securing the buttons and clasps of a severe looking shirt, the neckline a harsh slash across his neck, the edges jagged and frayed. He watches her as he dresses. His trousers are basic, but upon closer inspection, are crisscrossed with silver stitches. She sees the lacing on the back of them, pulled taut against his tailbone. He’s tucked the strands in at his waist. He throws a belt on, the same one he’d used for his smuggler’s disguise. It has a clip to hold his saber at his side. Before she objects to his lack of concealment, he’s throwing on a jacket, with a collar that stands up to just below his ears. His hair falls behind it. The chest and shoulders of the jacket are detailed with geometric designs, like the windows in a holy temple. Starbursts of the same silvery material adorn the elbows, stretching down to sleeves with buckles on the ends to cinch off the wrists. He breaks his stare to turn and shove his other clothes into the satchel. Rey’s eyebrows shoot up. His back is decorated in the same mock-laced leather as hers, the broadest part spanning his shoulders. He pulls his boots back on.

 

She’s slightly speechless. When he turns to look at her, she is standing slightly agape. He wants to kiss that surprised mouth.

 

The thought is so abruptly unsettling that he has to blink hard to shake the thought. She immediately jumps at his surprised expression, not so much probing as stabbing at his thoughts, in that ungentle way she has. He throws up his mental walls. “Enough.” he grumbles, and she withdraws. Her curiosity won’t leave, and it makes the air in the small compartment stifling. He retreats to the command center, monitoring the readouts around him.

 

She lingers at the edges of his mind, patient, as if he’d simply  _ tell _ her what he had been feeling and thinking in that moment.

 

He blocks her out completely, just short of repelling her. It takes so much more energy to hide things from her, every day on. So he just buries his feelings, deeper and deeper inside of him. And that’s how he has lived every single day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's leggings](http://www.gelarehdesigns.com/pants/shark-leggings)  
> [Rey's coat](http://www.gelarehdesigns.com/new-products/crocodile-coat)  
> [Inspo for](http://www.gelarehdesigns.com/test/gslgzp626bs8e48uxa5ti5czbhtdou) [Kylo Ren's jacket](http://www.gelarehdesigns.com/test/mens-prism-jacket)
> 
> Most of Kylo's outfit came from my own head, however, I hope described it enough to please you all!


	5. about that night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fugitives prepare to craft lightsabers.
> 
> Or, Familiarity Breeds Contentment.
> 
> Chapter titles from Like Real People Do by Hozier

After a month of living in the black market, Kylo Ren decides it’s time to start looking for lightsaber crafting materials. “The most important part,” he says, “Is that you craft the final hilt with the Force. If it is stable, it will never break.”

 

“Is that how you made yours?” Rey asks.

 

“No. Do as I say, not as I do.” he says, giving a dissatisfied look.

 

“I’m inclined to do neither, most of the time.” she mutters under her breath. He would laugh, if it wasn’t at his expense to begin with. He’s not sure he remembers how to laugh or genuinely smile. It all comes so easily to her.

 

They’re walking further into the market than they’d gone before. He doesn’t seem to know where he’s going, but his steps are sure.  _ The Force is guiding him _ , she thinks. She keeps quiet so he can work. After an hour of walking in circles, though, she suggests they stop and regroup. He gets them something to eat as they sit in the shadows of an alley.

 

“Why is it so hard to find lightsaber parts?” she asks.

 

He looks up at her, a thoughtful look crossing his face. He finishes the bite he’s been working on before he answers her. "During the reign of the Galactic Empire under Darth Sidious and Darth Vader, the Emperor made it illegal to own a lightsaber. It wasn't enough that he'd ordered the execution of all Jedi, he made the very heart of each surviving Jedi Knight grounds for arrest and swift execution."

 

“But why?” she asks, leaning forward.

 

He struggles to keep his bias out of this. Begrudgingly, he tells her, “They were terrified of the Jedi returning and obliterating them. And Luke Skywalker did bring around that end of days for the pair. You know how the story goes.”

 

“Actually, I hate when everybody says things like that, because I don’t.” she snaps. “If you forget, I was on a desert planet, nearly driven mad before my twentieth birthday!”

 

He holds up a hand to call for peace. “I apologize. I will tell you.” He divulges the almost mythical story of how a young Luke Skywalker, burdened with the task of pulling his father Darth Vader back to the Light, infiltrated the Death Star II and destroyed the Empire, killing the Emperor and his own father in the process.

 

“Luke killed his father?” she says, horrified.

 

“No. I didn’t word that right. Lu--Skywalker had shared that day with us in meditation. He’d thrown his lightsaber to the side, refusing to serve the Dark Side. The Emperor had commanded him to kill his father, but he’d r-refused.” he frowns, a crease deepening on his brow. “He refused, and the Emperor tortured him.” his voice is growing softer and softer. “Then Darth Vader had picked up the Emperor and tossed him over the ledge.” He looks troubled. Rey takes his hands in hers, so she can get a better understanding of him, and to help balance his emotions. She holds onto the peace that the Light brings her, and lets it flow into him.

 

His emotions are a mess. Regret and sadness are the overlying feelings that she can parse from the flood. She projects her serenity onto him, and he accepts it not greedily, but welcomingly. They’ve been practicing this, and he’s stable again in moments.

 

“When the First Order rose under Supreme Leader Snoke, it continued to operate under the fear that the Jedi would return. That’s why having very powerful Force users on their side would be most beneficial. That’s why Snoke formed the Knights of Ren, and sought out a symbol to crush the Resistance.”

 

“You.” she clarifies. The saddest smile crosses his expression.

 

“I was twelve.” he says. Her eyes flash with anger, that something should happen so terribly to a child that he would grow to end up a criminal, a murderer. “I was being used from the start, but I was too blind to see. The son of Princess Leia and Han Solo.” he scoffs a little and shakes his head. “I should have known better. Nobody actually  _ wanted _ to be my friend, my companion, my confidant, lest they face the wrath of my parents. I didn’t want to be special, but the moment Snoke wormed his way into my head, I was convinced I was better than all of the other padawans in my class.” He swallows hard and switches out of this subject. "One of the things Supreme Leader Snoke ordered me to do, before I was tasked with finding the map to Luke Skywalker, was to find all remaining Jedi I could and eliminate them. This included the children I had grown up with, trained with, grown with while I was at the training academy.”

 

Rey is unable to conceal her emotions. “You killed children?” she asks, her voice shaking.

 

“I had been tricked. Every time. He would tell me, ‘Kylo Ren, you must expel the wretched Light from your body. This is the only way’ and I would move like I was sleepwalking. Countless horrors I don’t have enough life to repent for, at the whim of a madman. He does not have to sleep with memories of the screams.” He looks haunted. “I’ve had a lifetime of other people’s voices in my head.”

 

She clears her throat, unsure of how to proceed. “Let’s go back to parts scavenging.” she suggests. He’d made a list of all the things they’d need. Maybe she could have some luck.

 

***

 

Hours later, weighed down with ‘specialty scrap’, they make it back to their ship. “Let’s do this nonsense tomorrow.” she groans, flopping face-down in her mattress, which she’d pulled out of the rack and left on the floor. She likes to sprawl out when she sleeps, and she was not a fan of the bruises she accumulated from smacking the three walls around her. He’d laughed at her, but realized he could finally stretch out how long limbs if he did the same.

 

He heads to the small cooking area, hunting for dinner in the conservator. He unearths some soup and loaf powder, which will do. He makes them both a bowl and brings hers over, setting it on the floor by her mattress. She doesn’t move, just keeping off her feet for now. He’s keen to do the same. He peels himself out of the ridiculous black clothes and sprawls on his mattress in nothing but his undergarments. She is more comfortable with his lounging habits now, and says nothing.

 

Her head flops to the side to peer at him. “So.”

 

_ That’s never a good sign _ . “Yes?”

 

“Do you think about that night in the cave, ever?”

 

_ Oh, Force _ . She’s trying to kill him, certainly. “You want to know if I think about us having sex?” he asks. Her expectant eyes are not made to be disappointed. “All the time, especially right now, and when you eat your food like an animal.” he deadpans. He’s truthful about the ‘all the time’ part.

 

She’s not impressed, and she sighs, rolling over onto her side away from him. She eats her loaf with a dispassionate face. She’d told him she lived on a diet of green-meat slices and powder loaves, often severely below portion. The quality on Coruscant was significantly better, but the principle remained.

 

He decides to let down his mental shield for her, just this once. Her head snaps up, eyes locking on his. She’s treading very carefully, but her mind gently steps forward into his. She’s learned so much in just a short month. He follows her around his thoughts and memories, steering her from the more gruesome, Dark ones. She sees his point of view about her, feeling what he feels, and seeing what he sees. When she pulls back, she blinks in surprise.

 

She had no idea how much sheer  _ compassion _ flowed through his veins. There was certainly a load of negative energy within him, but she’s already known that about him. What surprised her was the positive feelings, the adoration, the appreciation, the gratitude, the... _ no, best not dwell on that one _ ....

 

He gently leads her back out of his thoughts. She doesn’t ask questions about what she saw and felt, because this was most definitely a gift not to be taken for granted. She rolls herself into a kneeling position before him, and raises a hand at eye level. She gently drags her fingers against his mind, in gratitude. He closes his eyes and shudders softly, before doing the same quickly for her. She’s gotten so much better with what limited guidance he’s given her.

 

That night, he awoke a moment before she slipped into his mattress, and into his arms. They both lay awake for an hour, saying nothing aloud, but everything through the Force. He shares his dream with her.

 

_ It is a calm night, but not a quiet one. The ocean’s constant rasp against the shore is thankfully without the typical whipping winds that accompany it. He takes her hand, not wanting her to get lost in some part of his head he wanted to keep from her. The soft sand beneath their feet seems to fascinate her first, and he notices the image becomes sharper the more she looks at it, wriggling her toes in it. “I like this sand.” she says. “Why is it purple?” her lips are not moving, but her dream-face shows her excitement. _

 

_ “There’s a native fish that expels ink into the water when it dies, and they live along the shore.” he answers. _

 

_ She nods, and walks for awhile with him in silence until she asks, “Is this place real?” _

 

_ He doesn’t know if he should answer that.  _ (It’s a testament to how thorough his training is that he can conceal his thoughts from her though she is wholly in his mind right now)  _ “If we make it off Coruscant alive, I’ll take you here.” _

 

_ “That makes it sound like we won’t make it.” she says, chiding his negativity. _

 

_ “Believe what you will.” he says. The image shifts, and they’re on a cliff overlooking the beach they were just walking on. They’re in a forest, full of dense, lush wildlife. Their bare feet feel no discomfort from walking on this forest trail. They come upon some ruins, destroyed by time and probably the seaside conditions. The stone is weathered and soft, sun- and salt-bleached from time. Rey drags her hand gently across the bricks making up the structure. He can feel where her hand touches the rock. _

 

_ When she looks up, he does as well, through the massive holes that must have held up a roof at some point. Hundreds of thousands of stars are visible tonight, the arm of some part of their galaxy illuminating the sky and shedding a halo over the half-illuminated side of a nearby moon or planet. Cracks span up the sides, as if this whole building was built piece by cracked piece, to hold up some ruined frame of the sky. _

 

_ “Rey.” he says, voice drawn tight with hesitance. Her eyes meet his, and he feels safe enough here, in this broken sanctuary, to tell her. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” _

 

***

 

They don’t talk about the dream. Or her crawling back into bed with him so many times they just push the mattresses together and share blankets. Or any number of other things they should be talking about. Her mind goes back to that haunted stone structure at random points of the day, interrupting her thoughts. His voice is ringing in her head as if he’d just said “I don’t know who I am anymore” out loud.

 

“Rey, would you stop thinking about that?” he asks abruptly, annoyed. “It was just a dream.”

 

“Why  _ did _ you let me into your dream?”

 

“Because I’d rather you were with me than having nightmares on your own.” he says, irritation prevalent in his voice, like she’d forced the words from his mouth. “You kick in your sleep, did you know that?”

 

“Yes I did.”

 

“And you chose not to warn me.”

 

“I did choose that.”

 

He rolls his eyes at her, for what seems like the millionth time since landing on Coruscant. This kind of banter has grown more and more common every day, spoken aloud or along their connection. Her quick wit is electric and appreciated. He’d loathe a dull companion.

 

“Soooo...lightsabers.” Rey says, rolling onto her back to look at him upside down. She’s grinning.

 

He uses the Force to flop her long hair over her face, making her sputter. “I suppose we could get started.” He pulls the bag full of parts over to them.

 

Rey’s excitement would be distracting if she wasn’t so focused on the task at hand. Any teacher would be pleased to see their student so eager to learn and excel. But he can’t think of himself as her teacher.  _ Or a Jedi. Or a Sith. Or a Knight of Ren,  _ his mind provides nastily. He’s unsettled by the thought.

 

“The most important component to crafting a saber,” he starts, sorting out the pieces into little piles, “Is focus. Since I’m going to be building mine as well, it will be harder to guide you through it. It takes incredibly deep meditation, visualization, and grasp on the Force.” he explains. “The depth of meditation is such that the connection between you and your saber is as close as possible.” he raises a hand and floats different parts up to show her. “In order for the crystal to draw power, it needs a power cell. We only have a few options, but they should all last you a lifetime.” he explains the technical things to her, like the modulation circuits and energy gates. “The emitter shroud and the emitter matrix are the second most important part of the saber, it concentrates the rotation of plasma energy from the crystal beam.” his voice is calm, sure. He’d been poring over the old configuration manuals they’d found a few weeks back. “The hilt is what you interface with, with an activation trigger and an adjustment beam, if you have more than one crystal in the source.”

 

Rey’s eyes drink in the images of the things before her, memorizing them as surely as the man in front of her has.

 

“I’m ready.” she says. They’d both gotten long hours of sleep and rest beforehand, eaten and drank lots of water. This would be a grueling task.

 

They’d both selected the most fitting pieces for their sabers, beforehand, so they could concentrate on those pieces alone. He removes his shirt and powers down the ship. The interference would be an unnecessary distraction. Without the power, the Coruscanti summer would surely seep into their quarters.

 

They both assume the strongest meditation pose and let go of all connection to their bodies, their minds. There is only the Force. And with it, their connection.

 

They both call out to the Force to help guide them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% of my lightsaber knowledge comes from the internet, thank you Wookiepedia.
> 
>  
> 
> [Inspo for dream scene](https://40.media.tumblr.com/b0bdf98e299169ad72d6104b7c8f1a5f/tumblr_nz76oqGiO61ux1u51o1_540.jpg)


	6. those hands pulled me from the earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo Ren talk shop. Lightsaber shop.
> 
> Or, The Force, Like Technology, Is A Tool.
> 
> Chapter titles from Like Real People Do by Hozier

For a long time, there’s nothing but darkness and the fading echo of their synced breathing. The Force connection they share keeps them anchored as they sink deeper and deeper into themselves, their minds falling away to instinct, their instinct falling away until there is nothing but the Force. Their connection is the only source of warmth in the vast chill of the void. A hallucination, an image, a vision appears before them.

 

They’re in a cave, on another beach together on some planet lost to time and myth and obscurity. They aren’t even entirely sure it’s a real place to begin with. The ocean before them is incredibly still, almost frozen in place along the shore. This is no freeze frame, however. The entire planet thrums with the frigid energy of something very old, very powerful, and very clever. The universe’s longest-held breath. They are no longer facing one another, instead looking out at the open water together. They are shielded from the open air by the wide cave mouth. A nearby planet and its rings make up the majority of the purple-tinted view across the horizon. It casts an ethereal flush upon their skin, giving an other-worldly (if there was such a term) glow to them.

 

##  **_calm the sea_ **

 

The command shakes what should have been their bones. There is no choice but to obey the voice, spoken in a language of words lost to mortal bodies. The sea is still and silent no more, now cutting waves across the shoreline. Giant waves rise up above them. Rey reaches out with the Force at the same time he does, throwing up a shield around them while he fights the fury of the waves and the deadly seduction of the current. The winds are powerful, whipping around her Force shield. He manages to get the largest waves under control but the fine-tuning needed for it is too much to handle. They’re out on the beach for two days in reality, but that deep in meditation, they fight the ocean for what seems like an eternity.

 

“This isn’t working!” he strains near the end, his voice sounding raw, stripped down. “It only gets stronger the more you seem to focus your energy on it!” A revelation reaches Rey.

 

“Don’t fight it, then! The ocean is going to react as long as there is something in its way.” She sounds half-mad.

 

Weary now, he’s willing to try anything. “I’m going to stop fighting it. Take down the shield.” Her end of the connection wraps tightly around his wrists.

 

“Don’t let go.”

 

“Never.”

 

***

 

Surfacing from meditation often feels like surfacing from deep water. It takes control not to be jolted from it, to lose all that focus as the conscious mind and physical body make themselves known again. Emerging from the soul-deep meditation feels like they'd never taken a breath before. Her eyes burn, her legs shake with strain, her mouth feels like Jakku. She scrambles towards the ‘fresher to relieve herself, knowing how to operate on fear, hunger, and exhaustion.

 

When she is finished, she has barely stumbled back in when Kylo Ren is bowling her over in his own attempts to tend to his body. She crawls along the floor of the cruiser, now dusty. She feels disgusting in her skin, but her focus is razor-sharp. She sees the two lightsabers neatly assembled on the ground between the two mattresses they'd been sitting on. Every sound they make is deafening to their ears, having grown familiar to the silence around them. She gulps down water, the Coruscanti summer blazing through the bulkheads and the overhead. He's a step behind her, drinking deeply as she flips the idle mode back on in the cockpit. Air pumps, deliciously cool, around the cabin.

 

When he emerges he pours loaf powder into a plate of water. They break bread, not yet looking at one another. In the eternity they shared inside of their souls, their connection was strengthened and irreparably transformed into an indestructible Force bond. She stares at her hands, fighting to keep her mind clear of any betraying thoughts. They hold no secrets from one another, now. There is nothing about the other that one does not already know.

 

_ Rey. _

 

Her eyes snap up to his, finding compassion and pride in the dark warmth she sees there. It’s truly startling to see such an emotion coming from him.

 

_ Yes? _

 

“Say something.” his voice is rough and raspy, unused for two days. He coughs softly, once.

 

“I don’t know what to say.” she says softly, almost a whisper. Her voice is almost as wrecked as his.

 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

 

“I don’t think I’m in the right state to answer that, honestly.” she mumbles. He nods, feeling the same. Or was he feeling her emotions? It was hard to tell anymore. He reaches out and drags his fingers across the surface of her mind, an embrace too intimate to describe. She responds in kind. They let their affections take over. She falls into his arms, wrapping herself around him.

 

“I’m so exhausted.” he says with a sharp laugh. She squeezes around his middle.

 

“But we’re done, we’re finally done.” she says, in the fevered voice of a person who had conquered something akin to death. His hands idly stroke down her hair. She buries her face in his chest. They’re both desperate for human comfort and connection, soothing their tired bodies and lonely souls.

 

When they release each other from their embrace, they turn to the lightsabers on the ground. The Force pulls the hilts to their hands with ease. They admire them. “I don’t remember any distinct part of making this.” he muses.

 

“Nor do I.” she says. “It must have taken a very long time.”

 

“I disagree. I think the long part was getting into a deep enough state to even have the ability to craft one.”

 

“Do you think we could go down there again?” she asks. “And not hallucinate?”

 

“It’d be dangerous. We left ourselves vulnerable, completely vulnerable, for two days. Who knows what would happen if we’d been tailed here beforehand?”

 

“The Force would have protected us.” she says, sure of herself. She takes a step back and looks at her lightsaber closely.

 

She’s constructed a long, weighted hilt, similar in style to her quarterstaff and easily concealable. She’d selected two crystals to use in her blade, hearing of dual-edged sabers before and thinking it’d suit her fighting style best. Her companion had readily agreed, sporting bruises from their bouts of hand-to-hand combat. The sheath itself came directly from her quarterstaff, between the two rings that held the looping strap to it. It had been painful to take it apart, after all her years with it, but she now feels more connected to it than she ever had before. She spins it in her hand, over and over. The balance within it is perfect.

 

When she ignites it, they’re both holding their breath. Dual beams of light spring from the center through the ends, a little under a meter in either direction. One blade is the yellow-bronze one she’d admired first on the jungle planet, and the other is a brilliant blue, stunning in the fading dusky light of the cruiser. They both stare at the incredible illumination coming from her hands. In total, it is much longer than someone her height should be using. She wants to swing it and watch the light twirl. She feels true connection to it, and is filled with the heady sense of being directly connected to the Force. She deactivates it after a moment, and they both let out a shuddering breath they didn’t realize they had both been holding.

 

Her grin is just as bright as her lightsaber, and twice as brilliant. Their connection hums with joy and admiration. “Yours now!” she says.

 

His own hilt was constructed from a purely functional stance, the ribbed grip making it easier for him to twirl in his hands by far. He enjoys the heft of it, having to actually grip the thing to make it work. The activation and slide adjustment were in one setting, a black triangle button slightly protruding from the side. The entire hilt is a jet black Corellian durasteel, with intricate etching into the handle. She’s never seen etchings in durasteel before, certainly never this intricate. The etchings make up snow-capped mountains, with seven twinkling moons above. She swears she can see silver star inlays between them, but doesn’t look that close. She wonders if he’d even done it intentionally whilst crafting it.

 

She knows the only remaining crystals she’d brought with her were the bloodred one, a blue, and a green (and the rock). She’s slightly anxious to see what he’d chosen. She nods to him, his apprehension showing on his face. He ignites the saber.

 

A pure beam of brilliant light ignites from the sheath, instantly casting the compartment in a bright purple glow. He angles the sword down and away, casting one half of his face and body in shadow. Had he broken apart the purple saber from before? What was this? When he raises the blade a little, she sees him thumb at the slide adjustment, and two quillons much like his old saber’s exhaust ports burst into one bloodred and one blue beam to the sides. It’s much too long a blade to hold completely vertical, but she knows it’d be a frightening sight to see him with one half of his face cast in red and the other in blue. He disengages it and clips it to his side, before turning to put his shirt on. He seems upset.

 

“You’re scared. Why.” he says, voice stony.

 

“I’m not scared. I’m just wondering why you would want to use the kyber crystal of a Sith.” she says, finding her quarterstaff and hiding her saber in the hollow she’d carefully carved out of it. It still felt the same with the saber in it. She supposes it’s the secrets that are heavier. “Why would you want anything to do with the Dark side?” she mutters.

 

He starts and stops a few times before turning to look at her. “I never told you about the mythology behind different crystals, have I?” he says. She shakes her head and he sighs, leading her into the common room. The ship needs to be aired out, desperately. Thankfully the sun has already set. “Let’s grab dinner.” he says. After a quick round of turns in the sonic shower, they set out into the streets. Rey is now in a lightweight grey-beige cloak, edged in black leather, covering her black leggings and tan wrappings around her chest and ribs. She’s taken to wearing a little less lately, due to the heat, of course. He dresses the same, in his loose smuggler’s shirt and the leggings with the giant gash in them from when the Force crystal had burst out of control. She likes these ones best. That’s not why he’s wearing them. Of course not.

 

***

 

They head into the black market, where they’re becoming regulars at the bar they had visited on the first night. They’d been going by N’kali and Harko. They are jittery and excited, sitting with their true lightsabers at their sides.

 

“Where have you been?” the owner asks once they’re seated at their regular table.

 

The pair exchange glances. “It was my planet’s holiday for romance. We made it a two-day event.” Rey says, batting her lashes at Kylo Ren, who scowls to hide his blush. The owner roars with laughter.

 

“N’kali, you she-devil!” he exclaims. “Half your tab is on me tonight.” he is still shouting his laughter as he walks to the bar to get their Drunken Jedis.

 

“You look mad.” she says, still grinning cheekily at the flustered man across the table.

 

“I’m learning to not  _ react _ to the silly things you say anymore.” he rolls his eyes. Once their food orders are put in and their drinks come, a wave of somberness washes over them. “I didn’t tell you back on the planet with the temple, but I should have.” he starts.

 

“Tell me what? They’re just crystals.”

 

He shakes his head again. “When I picked up the purple lightsaber then, it was on instinct alone. I didn’t know what was going to spring out of the end of that hilt when we reached the cave.”

 

“Where are you going with this?” she asks, confused.

 

He sighs again, obviously a little worked up over this. He’s going to share something personal. “Okay, so typically, Jedi use blue or green lightsabers.” he says. “And Sith obviously favor the red. But as you saw in the temple, there is an abundance of all sorts of other colors: orange, white, yellow. In the Old Republic, the Jedi would use the color of their lightsabers as an indicator of what kind of person they were. Usually Jedi masters and consul would use green, the majority of the Jedi would use blue,” he takes a deep breath. “The yellow-bronze sabers were meant for those who lived apart from the Jedi, and had their own code of honor. They’re similar to historically white light sabers in that they were morally ambiguous.” he takes a large sip of his drink. “Purple lightsabers, however, as I’ve explained, are not usually spawned from a purple crystal, but one red and one blue. They represent a Force user who walks with the Light, but knows the path of the Dark as well. For one to turn from Light to Dark wholly is to never feel the Light within yourself again. It will eat you whole.”

 

She’s taking all this in, realizing more and more about herself, and him, as he goes on.

 

“It’s mostly based in mythology, now that you can count the number of Jedi in the known universe on one hand, I don’t think sticking by a specific color range particularly matters.”

 

“It matters to you.” she says quickly. He fixes her with a look.

 

“Yes. It does.”

 

***

 

From across the bar, history repeats itself, in the form of two informants sending the location of the galaxy’s most sought-after fugitives to the First Order and the Resistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The cave](http://bit.ly/1WN5Kcz)  
> [Inspo](http://bit.ly/1K9tjKx) [for](http://bit.ly/1KDGG0u) [Kylo](http://bit.ly/1JDc8RF) [Ren's](http://bit.ly/1QAUTlr) [lightsaber](http://bit.ly/2037Ydg) [(And my crappy doodle done at like 2 AM)](http://bit.ly/1RMqDFt)  
> [Inspo](http://bit.ly/1K9tMg3) [for](http://bit.ly/1PiFyoD) [Rey's lightsaber](http://bit.ly/1UptYYO) [(And my crappy online doll for Rey in the last scene in the bar)](http://bit.ly/20rAaDg)
> 
> Thank you all so much for your love and comments on this part of the story! Subscribe to the [Oblivion Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/391168) for Part III coming soon!!! xo
> 
> (Completely forgot a few typos and the entire chapter summary, I was so focused on making hyperlinks yikes)
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://spoopy-yardsard.tumblr.com/)  
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/mythbusterposey)


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